


Passion/Patience

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Series: Sleepy Hollow OTP Prompts [9]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Contemplative Ichabod, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Horniness, Ichabbie Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Making Love, Seriously it's been 230-some years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was there no respite? Surely he could control himself better than this, surely Abbie desired that he did.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Prompt: Person A having a mental battle about whether to be cute and cuddly to Person B or purely horny and screwing them senseless.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion/Patience

**Author's Note:**

> :D ... I decided to write some smut. I usually like the developing relationship bit of these two, but I loved this prompt. (Prompt from OTP Prompts Tumblr.)
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

Ichabod wanted to treat her.

He wanted to treat her gently, with infinite patience and with love. He knew the difference between making love and... ‘fucking’. Ichabod internally cringed at the tone of the word. It sounded so harsh in his mind, let alone how it sounded out loud. Some things did die hard. But, technically speaking, he wanted to _make love_ to her.

He wanted to be soft, and slow, and sensual. He wanted to analyse every part of her body and commit it to memory. He wanted to litter kisses all over her smooth skin. He wanted to curl her hair between his fingers and brush his lips against her mouth. He wanted to learn the taste of her, wanted to relish in it. He wanted her to feel _revered_.

But. It had been two hundred years. He was, at the end of the day, still a man, still a human with base needs to be fulfilled. He was feeling, understandably, antsy. As in, he wanted to push her back into the mattress and... well, make love to her in not so much a respectable way.

His mind was warring with him.

Abbie's lips pressed against his determinedly, gaining fervour. A thousand and one thoughts flickered through Ichabod's head.

He wanted to savour this; their first time was supposed to be unique. Whilst he would soon be partaking in... intercourse, it was now called, outside of marriage, he still couldn't shake the feeling that this was meant to be different. It wasn't that he didn't like it, not at all. But it was just difficult, for he and Abbie had been pushing invisible boundaries for months now, and, even though they seldomly expressed their relationship _as_ a relationship, it had first been a kiss, then the modern equivalent of courting, and now his cabin, on his own bed.

But the _tension_ after their first kiss, the build-up that had led directly into this moment? It had been driving Ichabod crazy. Two hundred and fifty years and horrible _longing_ ; Ichabod couldn't help but be impatient, and the Lieutenant's lips pressing against his in such a way did nothing to help deter him from impure thoughts.

Oh, _how_ he wanted to ravish her.

Ichabod swallowed a groan and pressed into the kiss, gripping at Abbie's knee. He would not run his fingers up her thigh. He couldn't, could he? This was moving much too fast for a healthy relationship, even if healthy wasn't on the top of his mind right now.

Abbie shifted her weight. Her body pressed against Ichabod's. Her skin was hot against his. She moved closer; her knee came to rest on the opposite side of his leg and Ichabod jolted with the realisation that she was straddling his lap.

He reached up to tangle his fingers into her hair. When she pulled away to gasp for breath, Ichabod peppered kisses down her throat. He felt the vibrations through his lips when she hummed appreciatively; he bit down on her creamy skin and felt her jump.

Her fingers bit into his bare shoulders as she clung onto him. It bordered on pain, but it remained pleasant. He smoothed his tongue over the patch of flesh that he'd bitten. She tasted like sweat. Her pulse was pounding beneath his lips. Everything was tenfold. Ichabod wanted it all.

Abbie ground down against his lap. Ichabod moaned at the friction; now his face grew hot and his lips stilled against the hollow of his throat. This was most assuredly not proper-

"What _are_ you waiting for?" Abbie complained, grinding against his lap again.

Ichabod snapped his head up. " _Abbie_." Was there no respite? Surely he could control himself better than this, surely Abbie desired that he did. But her weight was prominent against his lap. His composure was lost.

She grinned down at him. "No ‘Lieutenant’?" she asked. Her tone was cocky.

"Abbie." Her name was like glass on his lips, a lament yet difficult to grind out. Her gaze was smoldering and her cheeks were flushed. He was damned if she wasn't beautiful, because he whole-heartedly believed that she was. He _wanted_ her. "Abbie," he repeated lowly.

The realisation that he no longer had any self control should have been startling, but it wasn't. He didn't have self control, and, right now, he didn't want it.

Instead, he pushed Abbie off of his lap and back onto the mattress. She huffed softly, seeming to laugh at him, but he paid no mind. He just leaned over her to capture her lips again and, this time, he willingly forgot that he was supposed to behave like a gentleman.

 


End file.
